kore_logs | [day 147; open]

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[day 147; open]

Who: John Watson and Open
When: Day 147
Where: John's room and various.
What: newbie be wandering

At first John just sat a good long while on his bed. It was typical. Though he'd thought himself well beyond the days when he was deliberately trolled by the universe at large. Once he'd stumbled into that sort of role however, the universe seemed reluctant to let him out of it.

His first impressions were poor, that is to say, if this was Mycroft's idea of trying to reconnect through enforced placement. John was going to have to have words with the elder Holmes. Currently the only Holmes, but that was another of those things that John didn't like to think about, so they got brushed back into the recesses of his mind. A much less organized place than one would think for such an upstanding and productive British citizen.

Realization gradually sank in however, this was no effort of Mycrofts to lure him into conversation by means of science experimentation.

He was well and truly stuck.

The where's and why's and how's of the matter spun John's head in circles until it was clear that no matter how often he tried, he was not going to deduce any answers from what was inside his conveniently labeled room. Other minds might prove better at that task, but it was always in John's nature to go and look, even if he might not know what it was he was looking for. Or at.

John H. Watson was the picture of polite curiosity, finding no one outside his room to stop him. He wandered freely.

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Fortunately for John's curiosity (or perhaps really not), Gabriel was a very, very bored celestial being at that particular time. And, well, at most times - one would have thought immortality would lead to some level of patience, but in this case, apparently not. And when Gabriel got bored, his first recourse was to go and bother people. Not any people in particular, just whoever was unlucky enough to run into him, and in this case, John was that poor unfortunate soul.

"Haven't seen you around here before."

It was practically an accusation, in tone at least. Others might have started with an introduction or a polite 'how d'you do', but matters of common courtesy were presumably below his dignity. Gabriel looked him up and down with no attempt at subtlety - not flirtatious, not even really interested, just a hint of a near-paradoxical bored curiosity, in the way one might cast an apathetic glance at the weather or the front page of a newspaper.

"You new? Or just a recluse?"

Fortunately for John's sense of sanity, or unfortunately that he kept getting into these situations, he was sort of used to being the object of curiosity. Albeit, most tended to size him up rather quickly and then pass on by. He would admit that it was probably tied into the general height factor, but that would require admitting that he was short, and John took great pains to avoid acknowledging a truth he didn't particularly care to see.

"Do they have to be mutually exclusive?" It was the first, obviously. One did not have the sort of easy going smile that came from a social nature by being reclusive.

"New then. If that matters."

Not that he knew where 'here' was. Except that strange message left on that phone.

Not his phone, but a new one, not a model that John was familiar with.

"Huh."

He didn't sound impressed. He didn't look it either, for that matter - but, well, that was about usual for Gabriel. 'Mercurial' was the polite way of putting it; the less polite way was that he tended to see-saw between extremes of hyperactivity and boredom like a small child with a sugar problem. That was probably because he was a small child with a sugar problem.

"You're part of a pretty small batch, this time around. Maybe you're special... ooooor maybe they just got lazy. Given the evidence so far, I'd personally go for lazy, but hey - don't judge a book, and all that. Who knows, you might not be a complete waste of space. You got a name? Or am I gonna have to call you variations on 'newbie' for the rest of your stay? Cause fair warning, it'll make me sound like a teenager playing Call of Duty, and nobody wants that."

Not that it would make much difference if John did tell him - Gabriel more or less viewed using someone's given name as a last resort - but it was good to know. It helped with making up silly nicknames, for one thing.

Heaven save John from certain bored and unimpressed types. Which would be a lot funnier if more of the facts were known. But as they stood, other than getting an odd sense of deja vu, John wasn't going to mention any particular expertise in dealing with overgrown children.

He did offer a hand to shake however.

"John Watson, at your service." Only. Not quite. But it was the thing to say.

Far be it from them to descend into Call of Duty. It wasn't as it John didn't know how to waste his hours on games with the best of them. He generally stayed away from first person shooters though. One, because there was no sense in showing off in pixelations, and two, escapism was better done in extremes.

If any resemblance to Sherlock seemed to be there, it wouldn't last. Although there were a few similarities (particularly in terms of childishness), under most circumstances it wouldn't take anyone long to realise that if Gabriel were to be compared to someone from John's world it would be Moriarty, not Holmes.

"Enchanté." But, because he could be polite (sometimes), he shook the profferred hand. "I'm Gabriel. Not at your service or anyone else's, typically, but I have been known to offer three wishes to anyone who rubs my lamp."

He stuck his hands back into his jacket pockets, and maintained a neutral expression. While he wasn't known for subtlety, not by a long stretch, he did occasionally find it more entertaining to let people work out for themselves whether or not all his innuendo was intentional.

"So, Johnny - settling in?"

The overwhelming urge to wash his hand just hits John then. To be fair, he gets this urge a lot when dealing with patients, it's just one of those things. But if Gabriel meant to instill a bit of discomfort in the greenhorn, he certainly succeeded. Obviously John tries to play the comment off. He's not a child and it's all good.

"As much as can be expected." Settling in really wasn't the first thing that he planned on. Finding answers, if there were any to be found. Finding a way out, which seemed unlikely to be easy either. Last of, finding something to fill his stomach, because he was really only human.

"This place, it's not really.. I'm not in England anymore, am I?"

If he'd known about the urge, he'd have been disappointed that John had resisted in. Gabriel's 'flirting' (or however else his inappropriateness was interpreted) was invariably motivated primarily by his fondness for getting reactions out of people. While he was by no means averse to people responding positively, he found shock and revulsion much more entertaining.

"Didja just get that, Dorothy?" He deliberately played up the Southern twang to his accent, though thankfully he went back to his normal (though still strongly American) voice after that one sentence. "Course, we could be in England. Personally I don't think so - it doesn't rain often enough, for one thing - but even if it is, somehow I doubt it's got much in common with the England you're used to."

The second nickname does earn a pull of a frown from John's mouth. Stick around long enough, Gabriel, and one would see how very reactive the old army doctor could be. Often seemingly calm until an exclamation burst out unexpectedly. John was a careful blend of paradoxical impulses, both predictable and oh so not.

"I'm afraid I don't take kindly to the idea of being drugged and transported.. out of the country." Which is as far as John is willing to guess at, even if a silent voice in the back of his mind hints at something closer to the truth.

This isn't the first time he's been kidnapped. As it turns out. But it is the first time there there seemed to be no logical connections.

"Don'tcha? Well, maybe you should think twice before accepting drinks from strangers, then."

But John's idea of what's happened does seem surprisingly... normal. He sways back on his heels and gives him another curious look.

"Am I the first person you've spoken to here, champ?"

It's not bad advice on the whole. Though even when John strains his recollection, he can't quite place a finger on the how of this starting. He was just, going about his business. Life took on a surprisingly simple routine of late. No high speed chases through the city, no wrestling down murderers and thieves, and absolutely no dismembered body parts in the ice box. Which was all well and good, except for the part that John had put on a small amount of weight with the renewed appetite that followed. Just a little.

"You are." John was reluctant to admit it, as if that might cost him something in the long run. The price of knowledge however, was probably worth it's payment in pride.

"I'm guessing that means I've missed out on something very important."

And very obvious.

John knew that feeling well enough.

He nodded, with a (perhaps somewhat familiar) knowing little smirk. That explained a thing or two... and more importantly, it gave Gabriel an opportunity. If no one else had gotten to John and told him the truth, Gabriel could make up whatever he liked. Sure, John was probably smart enough not to believe anything too outrageous, but he was certain he could still use this to mess with him.

"Pretty important, yeah." He'd already said they might be in England, so that ruled out aliens, which would have been his first choice. Hm... "I guess that means you don't know about the Asatru yet, huh? Y'know-- the 'scientists' who brought us here?"

Punctuated with actual air-quotes, of course. Subtlety didn't come naturally to Gabriel.

The likelihood of John believing the alien theory was slim. Though if it was packaged well enough, and given enough time, he would come around. It took a certain natural talent to be gullible without whims, and John was the sort of man who could convince himself of anything, even if he could not always be convinced by others.

Still. He really doesn't know enough to be suspicious of Gabriel, aside from a general wisdom about not completely trusting strangers.

"Asatru?"

Then again, this was the man that once killed someone over an acquaintance. So John's nature can often be used against him. "I don't know anything about them."

"Evidently."

Oh, this was good. Or at least, it had the potential to be. Gabriel affected a studied neutral expression: mostly disinterested, with a hint of smug magnanimity.

"They'd like us to think they're scientists. But look around, pal - you're a smart guy, does this place look like a lab to you? Sure, it's got the decor, but apart from that - zilch. What are they testing? How are they testing it? Why are they testing it? It doesn't make sense, right?" He paused for a split-second, but not long enough for any kind of answer. "A couple months back, one of the people in here turned out to be a double agent. An inside man. I don't know if he got cold feet or he just screwed up, but either way, he told us the truth... with a little, uh, persuasion. Course, we didn't believe him at first, but then the Asatru pulled him out from right under our noses... and destroyed all the evidence he'd given us. I don't know about you, but that sounds like a cover-up to me."

He tilted his head, letting his expression go from just conspiratorial to a smirk.

"The Asatru aren't scientists. They're a religious political group who wanna bring about Ragnarok - the end of the world as we know it. We don't know exactly how - nukes, technology, biological warfare, whatever, but they're the ones who've brought us here. Political opponents, political opponents' families, people they think might be useful in bring about Ragnarok or surviving after it... that sort of thing. Depending how you look at it, I guess you could say we got lucky. But personally, I wouldn't."

He stopped, fixing John with a serious look that didn't seem quite at home on his face. Ostensibly it was to impress him with the gravity of their situation - really, it was mostly because he was trying to figure out whether he'd bought it. He was pretty sure he'd gone a bit over the top, and he knew there were some holes in his story, but even if he couldn't salvage the story, he'd already had a good amount of fun with it.

There was no need to worry about interruption even if. Okay, some of this is crazy. All of this was crazy, but it wasn't as if John had a better explanation for how he'd gotten here.

And he lived with conspiracy prone types for a goodly amount of time prior to this little kidnapping.

"I-" John hums a little, brows furrowed and at a loss.

Surviving an Apocalypse? Him?

"Do you think they're Russian?" Because if anyone was going to store up people for a post world ending setting, it was going to be the most pragmatic people possible.

Still. It all seemed pretty thin on evidence. "Is anyone trying to stop them?"

"They're from all over. Of course, the movement itself is Scandinavian in origin."

A better response than he'd hoped for. 'Do you think they're Russian' - either this guy watched way too many James Bond movies, or he was actually familiar with these sorts of goings-on in his own world. He was hoping for the former - it'd make him easier to fool... though admittedly he'd have to be careful of recycling Bond plotlines if this charade carried on much longer.

"Some people tried. They're here with the rest of us deviants now." He sighed, trying (and maybe even managing!) to look concerned. "No one can get any kind of contact with the outside world. I'd like to think there's someone still trying who hasn't got themselves stuck in here yet, but I don't know... I just don't know."

Perhaps a little far, but Gabriel's sincerity was rusty. Relying on serious moments in TV shows seemed like the way to go, so score one for dramatic repetition.

Why settle for just one? It could be a little of A and B. Certainly Bond films were a favorite, but usually for holiday marathons and the once rare and not all too common eventless afternoon. But mostly it was due to the goings-on of following a consulting detective around chasing down murders and so on that made John's imagination spin wild.

Eventually all of this would be written down and logged away, and then John might begin to rethink the trail that led him on a Russian Red Haring hunt.

"There has got to be a way. To call out. Or is that just someone's sense of humor, to give us phones that can't reach 9-9-9."

"They'd be pretty shitty kidnappers if they gave us phones that could call out of here."

At least that one was easily explained away. And more importantly it allowed Gabriel to let a little sarcasm into his voice and expression - perhaps that wouldn't have been more important for someone else, or even just most other people, but Gabriel just wasn't capable of going very long without snarking. Without an opportunity to do it at an appropriate point in the conversation, no doubt it would've slipped out sooner or later... which probably wouldn't have been very helpful to his cause.

"Well, true."

It took all kinds to make the world run around. But without a normal frame of reference, John was just going to do his best to judge his company's character by how it played out. No one ever said that John was the smartest of men, after all.

"So what do we do, in the meantime?"

"What am I, your mother? Do whatever you like, pal. Personally I tend to go for eating cake, drinking and sleeping with near-strangers, but you don't have to."

"You don't look like her, no. But you do sound a little like my sister." Alright. So polite inquires aside, John is glad to have met someone else in this place.

"Thanks for the talk, Gabriel."

For leaving him under the impression that they've been kidnapped by Russian Fanatics.

"Yeah? Your sister sounds like more fun than most people here, then. If she gets dragged to our humble little colony too, be sure and introduce us."

Or, perhaps, don't. Might be best for everyone thatway - Harry and Gabriel might be a bit of a dangerous mix for the community. But that can be left to John's discretion without too much interference, because at this point Gabriel straightens up and removes his hands from his pockets, evidently preparing to leave.

"No problem, champ. Always happy to help, that's me. See y'round."

With which he waggles his fingers in what passes for a wave, and disappears.

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[day 147; open]

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